On A Train Of Wish Lists
by I Shall Bite Ya
Summary: The Allies' meeting gets interrupted by an anonymous party, spreading chaos not only for the Allies but for the rest of the world while strengthening and weakening both old and new bonds between nations themselves and to their people.


**_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia._**

**_Summary: The Allies' meeting gets interrupted by an anonymous party, spreading chaos not only for the Allies but for the rest of the world while strengthening and weakening both old and new bonds between nations themselves and to their people._**

* * *

It was cold. Any second and the American would instantly turn into an ice sculpture for the people of the future to discover. It was cold, and all his senses were bailing out on him. It was cold, and he couldn't smell a thing given that his nose was frozen, nor could he feel his fingers and toes, moving them was absolutely fruitless.

Only his hearing were undamaged, it seems. He could hear a blizzard surrounding him and his body gradually making contact with the snow underneath his feet just seconds ago.

His tasting abilities were there, America was sure, although for only a second before he _wisely_ licked the white material beneath himself when noticing his mouth and lung drying up. Then minutes later, merely just lying there in despair: his eyesight along with his hearing were the last to vanish, the exact moment the blonde nation closed both of his extraordinary blue eyes before hopelessly thinking,

_Fuck you_, _Canada_.

* * *

It was strikingly warm, the American thought, regaining all his senses. He was in the hospital somewhere, he decided, after recovering his ability to smell. Someone probably found him… Canada, perhaps? He hoped that was the case.

They can finally talk… It was _so_ long.

''Do you think the same people of two months ago did this?''

No, that wasn't Canada; Canada didn't have an English accent.

''Isn't their target Canada?''

Nor a German accent.

''Maybe he mixed them both up!''

…not even a high tone voice.

''Maybe.''

Let alone, Canada wouldn't be here if these several nations were speaking about him as if he weren't there.

That fact alone gained him a burning ache in his head. He winced silently, but alas, that silent wince went noticed by a certain Frenchman that had a bit of aspects on his features identical to Canada himself.

America loathed how his brain was functioning these past weeks. Everything he sees he has to tie it somehow to Canada; everything he hears somehow turns out into Canada, and on. America was extremely tired of it; sadly that fact alone didn't help him end it.

''Amerique?'' he could hear France ask, looking at him with rather concerned eyes. ''A headache?'' he questioned once again, resulting the American to nod and ignore the ache in his skull to ask this time around.

''Any news about Canada?''

It could be plainly seen that he was pleading for an answer, unluckily only receiving negative responses: many shaking heads.

''Let's set that aside and let me ask you this, America, were you attacked?'' the same English accent he had heard awhile back fired at him with an unmistakable anxiety along the tone.

America laughed at the inaccurate conclusion the countries around him came up with for his sudden state. ''Nah, the story behind my condition wasn't that cool. I know, doesn't fit a hero like me, right? I was just walking around in Canada, trying to find the damn guy but ended up fainting mid-way! Who would've thought it was that cold up there, huh?'' the country ended his speech with a bitter laugh that was clearly heard… He was in the _verge_ of tears.

A sighing German broke the sickening silence. He stood up from his seat quite close to the American to tell him, other countries as well, as if they were in another of those chaotic meetings, ''We heard nothing about Canada yet. It seems that after what had happened in the meeting room two months ago isn't going to be forgotten easily until the culprits are all captured or killed, so he went into hiding just like we want him to, America, when the time comes he'll come out, so please, don't simply go and run out there in the middle of the cold trying to find him as if he disappeared.''

America bit his lips at those sudden words, and spat back soon immediately, rage written all over his exhausted face, ''What if he _did_ disappear, have you ever thought about that? What if that sicko got him? And now the little maniac is out there heading for the next nation on his freaking list after finishing his shitting little business with Canada, ever thought of that?''

''America, that assumption is rubbish—''

Germany massaged his temples soon as America's theory welcomed his already filled brain before interrupting the Brit, ''No, he has a point. Just as we believe Canada's in hiding, it has the same amount of chance of the other possibility, which is Canada being already attacked and is somewhere we know nothing of.''

Italy didn't like the sound of the second alternative, but not being fond of it did nothing… It was still there, the reality of it staring at his face and laughing cruelly. But he liked the Canadian. He wasn't close to him, yes, but he liked him. He was one of those nations that weren't scary like the rest. He seemed so kind and peaceful. And he had once tried his food when seeing Prussia sneaking it in, in Germany's basement. He had tasted it and it was absolutely delicious, so unbelievably refreshing and tasty. He definitely wanted to eat it again! So he tried hard to force and push away the second alternative to the back of his head, which Switzerland, out of nowhere, assisted him with, calling out his very own opinion on the situation.

''There is a flaw in the second option if I have to say,'' Switzerland finally spoke from the back of the room, sitting nearby his sibling who once spoke before America had revealed his consciousness.

America's heart nearly exploded at those words. He longed to hear them. He desired to for as long as he painfully remembers to be proven wrong. He wanted so desperately, to a great extent for someone, _anyone_, to tell him Canada was still out there, breathing, and not in the criminals clutches.

''Well, continue, aru!'' Yao said impatiently.

Switzerland rolled his eyes at that ordering tone and carried on with his conclusion, ''As I was saying, if Option Two were correct, then why are our list of criminals not going after a different nation if they indeed finished their business with Canada? Is it possible that they're _still_ not done with him? Could they be taking that long to do something to another country if they had done _that_ _much_ to Russia, _while_ _fighting_ five other countries, who most of them are at the top in charts if we focus on their strengths when we compare them to rest of the world.''

Prussia didn't get Switzerland's rebut, which impressively shocked him since if anyone other than him were in his shoes would be; being that his brain was the awesomest one active now in this crowded, yet comfy room. ''So…is Option Two flawed or what? What's the point you're trying to make?''

An Austrian in the far corner of the room sighed at that lame question; it was to be expected from the questioner after all. ''That, loser, meant if the criminal we're speaking of is actually finished with Canada, then why hasn't he made a move on another country yet. So, the possible answer we have in front of us: he hasn't made a move on Canada.''

The Italian clapped his hands together in joy. ''Oh! So Canada's alright! That's wonderful—!''

''Maybe Canada and Russia were his only targets, so he stopped,'' America said rather pessimistically, shattering Italy's happiness. The blonde wanted to voice every single one of Canada's sudden disappearance' possibilities out loud for someone to correct him wrong. So he could still have hope to believe that a country by the name of Canada is still out there alive and well.

Thankfully he heard Japan's calming voice answer, relieving him from all his troubles, ''Every one of you has forgotten this single fact: when something happens to a certain country, certain things happen to that country's people, weather, landscape, etc., and none of those things have happened to our friend, Canada, yet. So, America-San, Canada is still _very_ alive... Be assured and stay composed. Don't let those people get to you,'' he paused and made sure to look at each nation in the eye, then concluded firmly, ''none of you.''

At that final word, America looked up at the ceiling for a few silent seconds, before sinking back ever so slowly into the blankets covering him, getting devoured by the warmth it lent. He wanted to sleep now and forget about everything just for _once_. Struggling to forget all those memories of those many utterly confused days he lived and breathed only worrying about Canada and where he is, as well as his mind working itself to its limits trying to find newer possibilities about his disappearance that would sooth him down, usually doing the opposite effect. And when the time finally comes and he _does_ wake up, he'll give some damn, but right about this moment he just wanted to drift into another land far away from his non-stopping worries.

And life would be much, _much_ better if it really did do as he commands, but it didn't…

''H… Hey! Frog, what's wrong?'' America heard England's voice yell nervously, causing his eyes to snap open almost instantly.

France was seen leaning over the wall, hardly standing, breathing harshly, whilst clutching the fabric of his shirt near the left side of his chest; America's view got blocked when nearly everyone in the room rushed to the oldest blonde.

America's sight always bursting with many different and unique colours was easily and effortlessly engulfed by a horrifying black, kicking out any other shade of tint that the American's once perfect and lively eyes devoured. The accident of two months ago enforcing its way back into his memory that he attempted to forget. He would not be reminiscing it here; he didn't want to relive it in these depressing hospital grounds, with _another_ victim.

_''You cheated!'' he remembered England's voice filling up the meeting room._

_France laughed. ''Ah, please, this is not a game, I was only moving my legs around,'' he said calmly, crossing his legs under the table._

_''Says the one who started hitting me with it in the first place!'' England shouted, triggering both the French and Englishman to abandon their seats and to start another round of throttling with no other feelings but complete and unmistakable hatred by their sides._

_''Doesn't mean to start a game of who hits the others' legs the most. You _continued_ it,'' France barely choked out his retort as the other tried to yank out as much hair from his skull, while he tried pulling out the others' eyebrows' hair one by one to prove a fashion statement, _if_ he _does_ manage plucking most of them out._

_Yao could be heard miserably sighing. ''All these years I tried to stop them… I won't even bother-where is Hello Kitty, aru?'' he asked himself, rather irritated, looking around the meetings table with no hope. ''Aiyaah, did I even bring it with me? I'm sure I placed it in front of me,'' he mumbled to himself, earning him a lively reply from the Russian sitting by his side, closer than he should originally be._

_''Ah, you mean this?'' Russia waved his precious Hello Kitty around. ''I wanted to take a picture of it since the beginning of the meeting, seeing as France and England were the perfect distraction, I took it since.''_

_China snatched it at once, worry and suspicion visibly planted on his face as he examined his dear toy soon after. ''Why did you need a picture?''_

_Russia's smile widened. ''To send it to Estonia so he could make a duplicate. Although… In a different size.''_

_''Oh.'' China raised an eyebrow, slowly lowering it, his face then beaming unexpectedly. ''So you like Hello Kitty too? I never knew another nation had the same passion as I have! I could give you another one if you'd like, instead of Estonia—''_

_''Nyet, thank you—'' Russia's violet eyes all pure and innocent at that happy second widened, filling itself with nothing but hatred and hurt when feelings of agony and unbearable pain spread all over his insides. _

_''Ugh…'' he hardly could breathe; the air was choking out of him. Did the air hate him too? Did it want to abandon him like how everybody else wishes to do after merely just meeting him?_

_His head burned with pain, his legs felt utterly weak and tired, just as his hands; nonetheless, he tried his absolute hardest to reach and pull his thick scarf that was blocking his oxygen which he failed miserably to… His hands didn't respond to him._

_Russia felt pathetic._

_He could hear chairs screeching on the floor, followed by concerned yelling and feet movement coming towards him._

_Somehow he found himself already lying on the floor. He should never be in this position, he thought. He should never be this weak in front of other countries. The country of Russia shouldn't be underestimated like this._

_Russia flinched as many different kind of horrid images and sounds began filling his brain and ears._

_He heard screams of women, cries of children, yells of men. And all of them were his citizens. The Russian could clearly see the pure white snows of Russia turning into bloody crimson, causing his eyes to fly open, blurring the pictures away into his memory. He didn't want to see it evolve into anything more than it is already._

_The Nation was shot three times._

_''What are you doing here?'' America screamed to three dashing black figures coming in through the door some holding a sharp object tightly in one hand, some a gun on the other. ''Drop your weapons or we'll shoot!'' America warned, getting both of his guns out from his pockets. His eyes were serious, if anything they were the most focused in this room._

_America ran straight at one target as many shots fired, all of them missing. He gritted his teeth, and breathed in. He didn't want to hit any life-threating places; he needed all three of them alive for questioning, since obviously they had something to do with Russia's sudden condition._

_As one black figure dodged all the attacks, just _barely_, he headed straight to the Russian's helpless body, raising his knife armed hand, lunging an attack straight on._

_Bang!_

_England shot at his gloved hands that were beginning to bleed uncontrollably, throwing his knife away in result, unfortunately that didn't stop him as he pulled out a gun from his thick jackets pockets with his other hands. _

_Bang!_

_Another gunshot was heard, this time coming from outside, shattering the window, and getting one of the American countries' legs._

_''Canada!'' shouted America, outraged at the outsider who's attacking. This time he charged at the enemy without even thinking twice. ''You think you can just barge into this meeting and kill us? We'll kill you before you even get to _try_!'' America declared before he and two other countries began shooting._

_''Get away from the window, so that other guy won't get a good aim at us!'' England instructed as he started shooting the masked men, then looked at France urgently, ''help Canada away from that window. Obviously with that leg he couldn't even help himself. I'll cover you!''_

_Even though clearly hating getting commanded around by England, France did just that, although as soon as he did so, another shot greeted them from outside, flying faultlessly through another window, hardly getting the Frenchman's shoulder injured._

_''Are you okay?'' the Englishman yelled, startled at the sudden attack._

_France nodded, Matthew looking up to him with a frown. ''Sorry for the trouble.''_

_Most of the Allies were on the other side of the meetings table, away from the door where the strangers were at; unfortunately, China and Russia were there too. Given that's the case, China's only objective was to get Russia's body on the other side, seeing that it's the enemies' target._

_China cursed himself. He never armed himself with weapons, believing that they were useless to use, so instead of firing at the opposite side like the other nations were doing, he charged at the closest man and kicked as hard as he could. _Four thousand years of experience won't go unused_, he eagerly thought while running head on._

_The Chinese' opponent collided with the wall, his gun flying in the opposite direction. China smirked as he heard a pitiful grunt coming out of him, and a pointless plead following, causing China to laugh._

_''Ha! You think I'll let you go after what you did? Please. You and your partners aren't making it out of here without severe punishment. Like my thousands of years trained fist that I'm about to make you taste!'' China declared, aiming his fists directly at the others' pitiable face._

One down_._

_Bang!_

_Canada, leaning on France for standing, shot at one of the other two left and succeeded, getting his other hands while the other shot already by England before, leaving both of his hands useless._

_''That's not the end of us!'' the last man standing screamed, this time aiming at China, shooting with no delay._

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

_Without warning, the Chinese felt a cold body twice his size embrace him tightly. His eyes widened as a warm liquid began covering his clothing, staining it greatly. He looked down, hesitantly: blood. New fresh, warm blood. And it wasn't his. This time he breathed in, looking up…all the scents his nose was consuming were only two main things: Vodka and Sunflowers. And in those two seconds before even turning his head upright he had guessed the embracers identity already…_

_Russia._

_Russia pushed the Asian country away, turning the opposite direction with incredible speed, holding his fallen pipe and thrusting it with no second thoughts into his attackers' heart mercilessly. _

_A disturbing smile formed on his lips as his pipe got dirtied with uncommon blood. He pulled it away, receiving a cry from his prey's mouth and many gasps from behind, but he paid it no importance the moment his opponents' body fell next to his feet, with no further movement, and very dead, Russia decided._

_Bang!_

_Another bullet smashed its way into the window, getting all the nations' attention, and before they knew it each one of them started scanning through the room to see if anybody got harmed. Russia as well did this, and before it was too late, he become aware that the bullet was for him… _

_And it was a flawless aim._

''Call a doctor!''

America's eyes flew open to the scene in front him, Austria's desperate voice bringing him back. With an overwhelming alarm and unease written all over his body, America glanced to his left where the sudden accident unwrapped itself before everything had gone dark. He had prayed that it was just one of those nightmares he had acquired when the whole thing about Canada unravelled. But it wasn't. France was right there in his eyes' range of sight, hardly any part of his body making any sign of further movements.

To Austria's demand, Hungary dashed out of the door in a blink of an eye.

Germany noticed that the Frenchman's cell-phone was ringing in midst of the commotion. He got suspicious. Something _has_ happened. And he knew exactly who was behind it. He reached for the ringing object straightaway and answered.

''_Monsieur France_! _Monsieur France_!''

The German cringed at the ear-bursting calls. ''This is Germany. France is in no condition to talk. What is happening now in France? Is everything alright?'' he began to question as soon as he had the chance.

''_Qui êtes-vous_? _Qu'avez-vous fait à monsieur France_?''

The person in the line was angry, the German thinks… No, they're definitely angry, he thought, after another series of shouting greeted his ears. He handed the cell to the nearest person next to him, giving up on the other in the line, which was a mistake, seeing that he handed it to the Italian who began to yell and cry whilst waving his white flag frantically around.

The phone was finally snatched by a furious Englishman, who at first slammed it to his ears and said nothing. He heaved a lot air before yelling what the American thinks is _French_ and a mix of English. ''_Écoutez_ you fucking tosser! If you don't hand over this bloody phone to someone who speaks proper _Anglais, and_ without that girlish accent, I _will_ _be_ the cause of death for your—''

_Bang!_

England's body stiffened, the phone nearly escaping his firm grips, giving it one tight squeeze before turning his head and fixing all his attention back to France. His heart beats are rising in a rapid rate. The Briton heard the bloody glass of the window shatter, bits of it scattering around his feet.

He breathed out, seeing Switzerland's gun responsible for the sudden mess in the room. ''You twat, not even a warning! Don't just shoot at the window like that! I thought someone had shot the hopeless frog.''

Switzerland smirked. ''Well, they _were_ about to, alright.''

The Briton raised his unique eyebrows, waiting for an explanation that soon came from China just as a doctor and three assistances rushed into the room to help, Hungary following soon after with short intakes of air.

''The same guy who was shooting at us from the outside at the meeting room, well,'' China smiled and continued, ''Switzerland just got him.''

The moment the Chinese clarified that, Germany and Switzerland ran out of the room to where the blondes' bullet aimed and, hopefully, perfectly hit.

''I didn't aim at any life threatening places, but I did hit a leg if I do remember correctly, it should slow him down! But if someone is with him he'll be gone before we know it, so let's hurry up!'' explained the Swiss, as they dashed out of the Hospital's front door and into the next building.

Both men breathed in hastily, and carried on running in more speed up the stairs they had just discovered, in hope it would lead them straight to the roof. ''If they're… ha, goal is France now… ha, does that mean they finished with… Canada?'' asked Germany between heavy intakes of air.

''Do I look like a know-it-all? A God?'' Switzerland snapped right when they noticed the rooftops entrance, and glared at Germany for half a second whilst coldly answering his own question, ''no, I'm not. So stop asking useless and pointless questions since obviously no one knows except that person behind those doors, that _we would_ _get_ answers from sooner if you stop slowing us down with your futile chatting!''

In unison, the German-speaking countries slowed in their pace with surprising mutuality to kick the door open with no satisfactory result.

Switzerland groaned. ''You got to be kidding me.''

In a moments notice a stick was sticking out from the little space between their heads, helping them opening the door. They both turned their heads to find the Briton flicking the piece of wood in his grips that did its little magic to the entrance.

''I still don't believe in magic,'' Switzerland grumbled, walking through the door, gladly finding who he wanted but, unfortunately, not in the condition he needed.

''Great, you killed him,'' the Englishman commented dryly.

Germany kneeled down and examined the man's cold wrists, and to his dismay, he's indeed lifeless. The German stood straight and studied every detail surrounding him, while he did so he got a small glimpse of America's room and an Italians figure close to the broken glass, so he yelled, ''Italy! Did anybody shoot at this man after we went out?''

Italy looked up at the sudden voice and shook his head grimly.

Germany nodded to the Italian, ending the brief chat before turning around to face both England and Switzerland whom stood at their own corners doing nothing.

''Rather than standing there and giving me a perfect example of a rocks' very fascinating life routine, make yourselves useful and take pictures of every part of this area,'' Germany ordered as he dug a hand into his many pockets to find any gloves for use. ''Any of you have glov…''

Wasting no further second, England threw one of his fine gloves aimlessly at Germany's irritating—to England, at least—face, winning him a three-second glare.

''You're welcome,'' the Englishman's eyes suddenly gleamed with pride. ''Sewed by none other than my own fantastic hands that produces nothing but excellence and perfection.''

Switzerland gave a slight roll to his eyes as those big words reached his ears, and coolly remarked, ''Don't flatter yourself too much. I'm actually certain that whenever you're gulping down your own hand-made meals, the exact opposite of these words flood your brain.''

The German and the Briton both disregarded that comment, resuming their short exchange. ''I meant latex gloves, but I guess this'll work,'' Germany thanked England in between the lines. ''If you don't mind it getting a bit filthy,'' said Germany before making his way to the dead man's head, extracting the bullet from the males' cracked skull.

''_A bit _filthy?'' questioned England, outraged by sighting his valuable hand-made gloves full of red, ''and shouldn't we _not_ fiddle with anything around here until the police make an appearance?'' England carried on with the unsupportive questions as he did in fact take pictures of the place with his cell just as Germany asked for.

Not providing any answers, the German walked to where the man's gun were positioned and abstracted out a bullet from the daring item, examining both golden bullets in his grasps gingerly. He turned the hard pieces between his fingers, stroking its golden metallic skin leisurely, and carefully placed them where they were originally taken from.

''Do you still need these?'' Germany held out the master-less gloves, that were obviously not wanted anymore by their master seeing as the Englishman surprisingly responded with a shaken head.

''We can leave now, I presume? Given that, more or less, we got what we came for,'' Switzerland announced, climbing down the stairs, his loud and big steps becoming fainter and fainter by the second, and as it did, the countries that were left trailed after.

''His own comrade in crime shot him, am I correct?'' deduced England by what was previously in front of him. ''The bullet in his head and the one in his own gun were the same, weren't they? Their length, width, colour. Everything was identical. But we know he didn't commit suicide, we know he didn't kill himself with his own weapon because if he did he'd be closer to it, not fucking meters away. We also know that Switzerland only fired once and he himself stated that he was aiming for the man's legs and, eventually, we saw the pistol in his legs just minutes ago, confirming Switzerland words,'' the British man infirmed as he started focusing his eyes to the nation walking beside him silently, hanging on every word, ''and those bullets you examined, they are only used for long-range shooting which lowers the list of our sly killers identity…''

''A person with the same gun and bullet, who also happens to be standing on another building, maybe helping him with his mission or there to observe and keep a close eye on him to be assured he doesn't screw up, and his definition of not screwing up is 'telling us of any useful information', which later he discovered that his presence was actually useful to his association after noting that his comrade was shot in the leg, making him conclude to himself that his buddy was clearly done for—_they_ were done for—since clearly he wouldn't have enough time to escape with that useless leg: so to easily solve his problem he…''

''…shot his own comrade,'' Germany bitterly finished off.

''Sick bastards,'' sneered England. ''At this rate we won't make any progress!'' he shouted out in frustration, ruffling his blonde hair.

Even if it was the actual reality and the easy way out is to agree with that little statement, Germany wouldn't. He wouldn't dare dump away all this hope he's been building up all this time for some silly little organization who wants others like him wiped out, because if he did he'd lose all respect and honour he's provided with, especially from his people, millions and millions of people from the youngest age to the oldest, and all of them depend on him to at least _hope_ that there will be progress. If not now, later; if not today, tomorrow. At least sometime in the future there _will_ be progress.

''But there's only one single piece in this puzzle that's bothering me,'' said England, his voice quite distant and eyes in immense concentration.

Germany stared at him nervously. ''And that is…?''

''The noise,'' he answered, still deep in concentration. ''Why didn't we hear the second bullet being fired?''

* * *

''_Sudden storms have struck most parts of southern, western and northern of France without any form of precaution. Even a plague that began from absolutely nowhere has spread rapidly across the North of France in a matter of six hours, while Paris is in hysteria with the lighting storm worsening by each second bringing an uncontrollable amount of fire never have we seen in decades! It striking many important landmarks, such as the Louvre Museum. Now we switch to Russia where the snow storms are still at their_—''

America snapped his eyes forcefully shut when an overwhelming sensation engulfed his forehead. His hands thoughtlessly searched through the thick sheets covering him, hoping to find the remote device, in view of the fact he'd rather be shot in the head than endure a second more of hearing this damn reporter in his screen.

''The remote is on the table, America,'' a soft voice helped out by picking up the device and handing it to the American, who instead of taking it, pulled the person in a careless hug, followed by an ecstatic laugh, that even though sounded joyful, the Canadian couldn't miss the slight distress it accompanied. ''I see you've missed me.''

Quite assured that the Canadian is not a trick pulled by his own imagination, the American pushed him back and voiced out what he longed to ask the other in the room. ''Why?''

Canada was startled. He'd hoped that America would've left the questions for later. ''America… I _had_ to. After what that man said—''

''_You ran away_?!''

''I didn't run away! I…'' Canada sighed. He really should have left with an explanation, now he regrets it deeply. ''It was for the best, or so I thought before I heard the news today, about you. Don't just run out in the cold like that, America, I was _so_, _so_ worried! And Upset! And, and…''

''Who told you about me? Only nations knew about my state.''

''Cuba,'' revealed Canada, regretting it the second he did.

America gritted his teeth, sucking the air through them. ''Bastard. Lied to me! I asked him if he knew where you were—''

Canada shook his head rapidly. ''I told him not to!''

Seeing America finally calming down, Canada breathed in, before saying, ''They were after me! I was their next target, so I hid where they couldn't find me, thinking to myself that if they couldn't finish off their next target they wouldn't continue with their slaughter. But then…'' he squeezed his bear closer to him, even receiving a yelp from the stuffed animal. ''But then they got France… and…'' America could clearly see Canada choking on his own words, but he continued listening anyway, knowing that Canada would hate it if he interrupted. ''I had to come back seeing that my plan didn't succeed. I had to make sure and see for myself that you and France were alright… that's why I came back,'' finished Canada, his eyes filled with nothing but concern.

Just as concerned as America's eyes were that day…

_''Tell us! Who are you working for?'' interrogated America, after China accompanied Russia and the two dead men to the nearest Hospital, whilst France and England headed out to check for the man shooting from the building nearby, leaving Canada and himself to the interrogation._

_''At least tell us why you're doing this absurd thing,'' begged Canada as he twiddled with the keys of the strangers cuffs._

_The man sneered. ''It is not an 'absurd thing' it's something that should be done! And you know what, I'll tell you a dirty secret of our next move, on one condition of course,'' he said, looking mainly at America._

_America thought about this, and nodded, ''Sure, but what is it?''_

_''Kill me after I tell you.''_

_Canada stared, rather suspicious with the man. ''Let's not do this, America. There might be a catch. Why would he want to be killed? The information he'll give us must be false—''_

_''No, no, no. There is no catch. My master will kill me anyways when I return, seeing that I have failed my mission. And actually, the little piece of information I'm giving you for free is the most useful to you two,'' the man exposed, a cunning smile on his face._

_The Canadian shared a glance with other blonde in the room, pleading with his eyes, hoping he would see that this is a terrible proposal. ''We can't kill him for a piece of information, that's just wrong! Let's just imprison him—''_

_''No! My master will find me and kill me! Please, please—''_

_''Be quiet,'' demanded America, annoyed himself with the situation he's put in._

_Canada smiled, knowing America agreed with the slight nod he responded with. They'll find other ways to get information, and other ways were far better than this ridiculous one. ''Police should be on their way—''_

_''The organisation I'm apart of wants to eliminate every single country that they find nuisance to them, which we realised is each and every one, and our next target is you, Canada, and nothing will stop us from accomplishing our goals… Ugh…''_

_Canada's eyes widened in horror, noticing the red liquid pouring out of the man's mouth. ''He bit his own tongue off. He killed himself. What… what kind of crazy organization is this, to make their own members take their lives out of fear.''_

_''And now they want to take yours,'' reminded America, alarm and worry filling his blue eyes._

As the tension between them started fading, Canada settled in America's hospital room before standing up abruptly as realization hit him, causing his beloved bear landing harshly on the floor, shock filling its face, yet the shock didn't compare to what was on Canada's.

America raised a questioning eyebrow, abandoning the boring video game in his hands. ''What? What is it?''

Canada sat back down, burying most of his face in his hands. ''I… I can't believe I forgot! I think it's still early, but… but can't be too sure, we must…''

''What are you rambling about?'' queried America, slightly fed up.

Before answering, the Canadian glanced at the clock above America's head, and stood up. ''I wasn't just sitting around hiding in fear while I was gone. I actually tried to get at least some small pieces of information about the organization, which I failed miserably at… But! I did get to find out who their next target is,'' uncovered Canada. ''It's two in the morning, we have a couple of hours to rest, but on nine we must head out to—wait, you're feeling better now, right?''

The American nodded with excitement, smelling the scent of _adventure_. He remembered when he and Canada would sneak out of the Englishman's house to fight 'monsters' and capture 'criminals'. They would have their own small adventures before daylight hit without England suspecting a thing.

''Wait, wait, who's their next target?'' asked America, getting back on track.

''Egypt.''

* * *

_Until Next Chapter...!_

* * *

**_A/N: So you've probably noticed I've tagged Germany and North Italy and none of them are in this chapter much, but Italy would be the center of attention in the next chapter. I promise, if you'd like a continuation?_**


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